


At the Copa!

by dramady, jeck



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeck/pseuds/jeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP, because James's favorite karaoke song, apparently, is "Copacabana"</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Copa!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

Michael's mobile beeped with another missed call and a voicemail message. He was a busy man; he got a lot of calls.

This one, however, wasn't a business call or a pressing matter. This one was musical.

 _Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl  
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there  
She would merengue and do the cha-cha  
And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended bar  
Across a crowded floor, they worked from eight til four  
They were young and they had each other  
Who could ask for more?_

 _At the Copa, Copacabana  
The hottest spot north of Havana  
At the Copa, Copacabana  
Music and passion were always the fashion  
At the Copa .... they fell in love _....

Then the call ended with raucous laughter.

It was starting again. James and his sense of humor.

So, of course Michael was in fits of laughter when he heard the message. He was quick to return the call and much to his chagrin he wasn't able to speak directly to James. Instead, he left a voice mail message as well.

"Are you drunk again, darling? Having fun without me, I see." Then there was silence over the line before Michael spoke again, his voice deep and quiet. "I miss you." Then he ended the call.

There wasn't a message that evening. But the next day when Michael checked his messages, he heard this:

 _You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.  
But I look around me and I see it isn't so.  
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.  
And what's wrong with that?  
Id like to know, cause here I go again...._

"I miss you too, Michael," James said into the phone before the message ended.

It would have been funny, all these messages, missed calls and songs in voice mail from James. Everyone they ever worked with would have known it was Michael who broke into song. This? No one knew this.

This was just for them. No, for _Michael_.

When the phone clicked and asked Michael to leave a message, the song on the tip of his tongue and on his mind faded and he went blank. James's voice tugged at something in his chest and left an ache Michael tried to ignore. It would be a long silence before he was able to speak.

"I love your silly love songs. Keep singing my darling. At least until I see you again." Time differences were a pain. Michael hung up with a deep sigh.

In the middle of the night this time, Michael's phone buzzed, on vibrate rather than ring. He woke too late to take the call, but heard the buzz of a voicemail being left. James's number showed up on the caller ID.

 _Mamma mia, here I go again  
My my, how can I resist you?  
Mamma mia, does it show again?  
My my, just how much I've missed you  
Yes, I've been brokenhearted  
Blue since the day we parted  
Why, why did I ever let you go?  
Mamma mia, now I really know,  
My my, I could never let you go...._

James and his song choices left much to be desired but then it was what was said, the sentiment that drew Michael to them. He found himself, at such odd times, humming, of all things, Copacabana.

It was a break in between shots that Michael suddenly found himself alone and with time to himself. Quickly he sought out his phone, scanning through the numbers and calling James immediately.

As soon as the line clicked, Michael was singing:

 _You say you'll give me  
A highway with no one on it  
Treasure just to look upon it  
All the treasures in the night_

 _You say you'll give me  
Eyes in the moon of blindness  
A river in the time of dryness  
A harbour in the tempest_

 _But all the promises we made  
From the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you ..._

"Aye, I knew you couldn't last long without singing, Fassbender!" James's voice was merry in a later message. "You couldn't resist the siren song, could you. All sentimental." He sighed over the line before saying, "I miss you too, you know. Been seeing all the adverts for your film. Hadn't realized we'd shared Keira. Ah, the stories to share now, eh?"

Why do they keep missing each other? Michael sometimes hated their schedules and how they could never find even five minutes to be able to catch the other - to really _talk_.

Michael's next message was spoken low, sultry, whispered with a gruffness in James's voice mail. "We'd shared Keira - you, James," he dragged his name out, "make that sound so dirty." The grin would be evident in his voice. "What other things can you say sound that dirty?"

The line clicked and James would have heard the soft laughter that followed.

Oh, the next message was dotted with James's laughter. "Mud!" he cackled. "Grease, mmm, dust … Is that dirty enough for you, Michael?" Even as he chuckled, James's voice was low and playfully sultry. "I prefer your chest to hers." Click! The message cut off.

It took a long moment after Michael had received the filthy message to gather his composure from laughing too much. He picked up his phone and then dialed James's number. He was in his hotel room, on his bed while his dinner from room service waited at the table.

Dinner alone was always lonely, but no one could tell from the way he began to sing into his cell phone. Michael's voice was low and there was no humor, instead there was a lot of heaving, hissing breaths after each phrase.

 _Body...wanna feel my body?  
Body...such a thrill my body  
Body...wanna touch my body?  
Body...it's too much my body  
Check it out my body, body.  
Don't you doubt my body, body.  
talkin' bout my body, body,  
check it out my body_

Every man wants to be a macho macho man  
to have the kind of body, always in demand …

Michael managed to hang up before he succumbed to peals of laughter, the song unfinished but he just couldn't go on. It was after the humor died down and he was faced once again with a quiet room, the TV on mute, and his dinner on the table getting cold.

When he'd finished his meal, his mobile rang. Even as he answered, knowing it was James, James's laughter filled his ear. "You didn't. You really didn't. Ah, Michael. You've finally cracked, haven't you?"

"Aye. You cracked me from the start, James." It was so good - _so good_ \- to finally speak directly to James. Michael could not stop smiling. "You had me at Copacabana." The grin grew brighter. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm fine, good." It was easy to imagine James slouched low in a chair. "Your photo is everywhere, you know. You and Keira. I read about that flim, you know. Kinky …. " There was a near purred smile to the words.

"Ah, yes, the spankings, the whippings …" Michael raised a brow at the tone of James's voice. "Where are you right now? Are you anywhere near the same continent as I?" Because suddenly he felt like he wanted to _be_ with James.

"I've been a very bad boy," James replied. "Are you still in Italy? If so, I _am_ in the same continent but that's all that can be said. If you happen to be in London … well …. "

"London is not that far away," Michael said, feeling his heart begin to beat rather rapidly. "Shall I swing by and say hello?" Already Michael was going through his schedule in his mind. It wouldn't be too difficult to rearrange a few things if James so willed it.

"What, tonight?!" James laughed again, incredulity in his tone. "You're mad. You really have gone over. You still haven't said where you are."

"Venice, my dear." Maybe Michael was mad. James had finally driven him mad with lust, desire … love. "Why? Will you be the one swinging by?" Since, after all, Michael was there for the film festival, therefore working.

"I can't … " But it was clear James was thinking. "Christ," he sighed. "We're being cock-blocked by our very success. How truly terrible for us."

"Tragic," Michael agreed. He was quiet a moment and then decided that he had to take a chance. He'd done that so many times in his life, in his career, why not take another worthwhile risk? "What does your schedule look like in the next three or so days? Do you think you have time to … karaoke?"

There was a stunned pause then barks of laughter. It was too easy to picture James with his head thrown back, amusement lighting his eyes. "Yes, mad, just as I suspected. Let's see." After all, as Michael knew too well, James couldn't resist karaoke. "It seems I have an evening free on Thursday."

"Very well," Michael was already making extensive plans in his head. "Shall I call on you Mr. McAvoy? On Thursday?" He was grinning, James would be able to sense this. "And I highly suggest you keep your Friday free as well …" It was said suggestively, of course.

"Why, Mr. Fassbender, I do believe," James said, complete with passable American Southern accent. "You are implying something about my honor." But his smile was evident, too. "I shall look forward to it. On your motorbike, I presume?"

"I do travel in style when I'm in London." It would be good to be home, Michael thought, and be with James even if it was only for a few days. "My plans involve my picking you up and us heading to some secret destination. It's a date, James."

"Ah, very good. A mysterious date." James's smile all but beamed over the line. "I'll wait with baited breath until then. It'll be good to see you, you know."

"Aye. It has been too long." Michael could feel the excitement flutter at the pit of his stomach. "Now, tell me again why you insist on singing this song about Lola the showgirl ..."

Come Thursday, after a stressful time of rearranging schedules, moving meetings, rushing interviews and making arrangements, Michael was in London, finally. He and James had a date. It was to be a casual affair, eyes behind dark glasses, in jeans but a decent button-down and beach slippers, Michael knocked at James's door, a smile already wide on his lips.

There was a pause before he got an answer. James, clearly, had done some rushing of his own and barely had a shirt buttoned; he was still barefoot. "And there he is." He took a step back so that Michael could come inside. "You are very much a sight for sore eyes."

Michael let his gaze lazily drag over James's body, down and then back up to meet his eyes, smiling brightly at him. "You, sir, are not." Then he reached out, the door closing behind him and then he was toying with the button on James's shirt. Michael's fingers weren't sure whether to button them or strip James of his clothes.

Michael did buttoned them up. "Always in a rush," he chastised with a teasing, playful grin.

"Always a bit behind," James corrected, peering up at Michael. His hands were loose at his sides and his voice was soft. "Should I grab my helmet?" Even as he asked, though, he took a half-step closer and automatically, Michael's arm went around his waist and urged him to take one step more.

"You do have some odd fascination about behinds." The stare Michael gave James was heavy with meaning, desire and need deep in them but the smile he had on his lips belied it. "Are you ready, then? Can we go now? Lots to do, darling. _Lots_ to do."

"Lots to do," James echoed and he went to his toes for a fleeting kiss then was bustling to put on shoes. He grabbed his helmet as well, checking for keys and a wallet and they were off.

"Do bring your helmet. I had a last minute change of plans and decided the Vespa might be a better means of transportation." Michael had wished that the kiss was a little more lingering but they had all night. There was no need to rush.

Outside was his trusted Vespa, his helmet sitting there, too. Michael made a fancy gesture toward it, grinning. "Your chariot awaits …"

Laughing, James was already strapping his helmet on. There weren't any photographers in the vicinity, which was a relief for the them both. After Michael climbed on, James slid in behind him, arms around his waist. "No accidents, please. You've only got sandals on."

Helmet on, too, and after Michael had started the engine, it whirred to life and he looked back over his shoulder at James, grinning. "I'm not as skilled a driver as you, James, but I promise, I'll keep you safe." With a laugh they began to chug along leisurely through the dark, busy streets of London.

It was one of the best ways to traverse the city, they both knew, allowing avoidance of traffic snarls and slowdowns that would plague a car whilst allowing the anonymity that would be gone via the tube. James's arms stayed tight around Michael's waist.

The helmet provided the much needed disguise that they were unrecognizable. And arriving at their destination, it helped with anonymity. Who would expect Michael with James to appear at The Karaoke Box in a _Vespa_? Exactly no one.

Michael parked in the lot beside the bar and then took of his helmet while turning to James, his free hand running through his hair. "We're here, luv. Now you can sing all those songs for me, in front of me. No more hiding behind your mobile phone."

"Ah, brilliant," James said, laughing. His own helmet was soon tucked under his arm as they went inside. The design had private karaoke rooms and unsurprisingly, James was still laughing as they were ushed into one with white padded walls and seats. "How in the bloody hell did you find this place?" he asked, looking around. "How did you even know it existed?"

"You underestimate my abilities. I'm hurt." Michael even clutched at his chest but he was smiling as he sat down on the poufy seat. He patted the spot beside him and then he crossed his legs and stared at James. "You're not the only one who could do things while you finger yourself." He waggled his fingers by his temple.

"I see, I see." James sat, leaning against Michael's side, tucked under his arm. "Now," he said, grinning up at Michael. "I'm open to requests. For songs, that is." The arch of his eyebrow made clear that other things were open to suggestion as well. Later. In private.

"Drinks first," Michael said decisively and with a curt nod of his head. "That was I am sure that _later_ you would fulfill all my requests." He had a teasing but earnest gleam in his eyes.

They needed only press a button and a server appeared. Drinks were ordered and then the thick songbook was then taken by Michael and placed, quite gingerly, on James's lap. "You have first choice, darling. Anything you want to sing and I," he placed a hand on his chest, "shall provide back-up."

Laughing yet again, James flipped through the book haphazardly before putting it aside. He clearly knew what he would sing. It was a matter then of programming the song in. His grin grew impossibly larger as the first strains of "Copacabana" started.

Now it was Michael who had joined in on the laughter. He stood up and then in the middle of the small room just a few paces from James, he started to sway with the music, dancing. "Sing it for me, luv!" Michael urged James excitedly.

Standing up with the mic in his hand, James started swinging his hips, snapping to the beat, putting the cheese factor on high as he started to sing. He made his way closer, resting a hand on Michael's shoulder, as if singing it right to him.

"His name was Rico, he wore a diamond  
He was escorted to his chair, he saw Lola dancin' there  
And when she finished, he called her over  
But Rico went a bit too far, Tony sailed across the bar  
And then the punches flew and chairs were smashed in two  
There was blood and a single gun shot  
But just who shot who?

At the Copa (CO!), Copacabana (Copacabana)  
The hottest spot north of Havana (here)  
At the Copa (CO!), Copacabana  
Music and passion were always the fashion  
At the Copa....she lost her love ….. "

He swooned into Michael's lap.

Michael caught James in time and they both fell on the bench, Michael's arms quick to wrap around James's waist. He tugged him closer, grinning as he peered close to his face and then, Michael started singing.

"Copa. . Copacabana  
Copa Copacabana … Copacabana, ahh ahh ahh ahh  
Ahh ahh ahh ahh Copa Copacabana …"

And then Michael kissed James. It was quite romantic, if he did say so.

James's arms looped around his neck, but the kiss was short - there had to be closed circuit cameras. His gaze promised more, though. Later. "It's your turn," he told Michael.

Their drinks arrived then, while Michael perused the thick book for a song. They were sipping their drinks and still, nothing. "Is there something you want me to sing?" _To you_ , was left unsaid. They sat close together even though the bench was long and there was more than enough space.

"Hmmm." Leaning over Michael's shoulder, James looked too. Then he pointed at a selection with a wide grin. "Right. Do it justice, Fassbender. I want you to _croon_."

Croon, James said and all Michael could do was stare dumbfoundedly at him. But then there was a determination set in his eyes, his jaw, that he reached for the microphone with one hand and his drink was downed with the other.

"Very well, James." A few buttons were pressed and then the soft, soulful sound came through the speakers. Michael stood up, placed his now empty glass down and then he held his hand out for James just as he started to sing the words. Michael's voice came through softly, tenderly.

"Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.  
From glen to glen and down the mountain side.  
The summer's gone, and all the flowers dying.  
'Tis you, 'tis you must go, and I must bide … "

"Ah," James said, one hand in Michael's, the other over his heart. He leaned back, smiling sincerely. "You're breaking my heart. I'm very soft-hearted, you know."

Hearing that made Michael actually _croon_. He smiled at James and then he pulled the microphone away so he could turn his head, sing the words right by James's ear.

"But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,  
or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.  
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow.  
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so …"

Those last words, Michael whispered, his forehead pressed to James's temple, seeing how James closed his eyes, feeling how he leaned into the contact. He even hummed along, hand resting on Michael's hip.

Michael kept his arm around James and they started to sway slowly with the music.

"But when ye come and all the roses falling,  
and I am dead, as dead I well may be,  
Go out and find the place where I am lying,  
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.

And I will hear tho' soft your tread above me,  
and then my grave will warm and sweeter be.  
For you shall bend and tell me that you love me,  
And I will sleep in peace until you come to me …"

There was no sense in letting the last note linger. Michael barely finished when he was already dipping his head down to take James's lips in his. The kiss was intimate, sweet with Michael brushing his mouth against James tenderly. This had been what he was longing for the many, many weeks they had been apart.

"You're determined to reveal us to the world," James tsked quietly, pulling away reluctantly. "Perhaps we should go somewhere else? What is next on our itinerary?"

"I beg to differ, James, darling." Michael clicked his tongue and shook his head but he was smiling at James. It was a wide, warm smile. "But I believe it was you who threw yourself in my arms a moment ago and ended up on my lap …" He gave him another kiss, just because. "Dinner is next, luv …" Then a smirk appeared on Michael's lips. "A private dinner. Are you interested?"

With a slow-growing smile, James raised and eyebrow and shrugged. "I suppose I could eat. But, for the record, I was play-acting. I'm just quite so talented that you couldn't tell that that was what I was doing. You made the mistake of taking me seriously, Michael."

"You mean it was all a sham?" Michael put on a feigned look of shock but his voice stayed even, eyes steady on James. "All of it, James?" There was hurt that crossed his features. "The lovely moments in the caddy car? The way you touched me under the water when we filmed in the tank?" Michael's chin quivered and his eyes drew tears; it was Oscar worthy, if anyone asked him. "A sham …" He whispered. "... and I even I let you look up my skirt …"

The quiet pathos of the scene was broken abruptly by James's cackling laughter. "You are full of shite! And you aren't the only one who can cry on cue, you know." His arm was around Michael's waist and James leaned his head on his shoulder. "Take me away from this padded room before I think we should both be committed."

"Aye. Your wish is my command, luv." Michael wrapped James in a tight hug before letting go. He placed a wad of bills on the table and then he gestured his partner toward the door. Before leaving the room, Michael took one more look and smiled. Committed. It was no use. He was utterly mad for James already.

Dinner was at an exclusive restaurant at a table left alone in a corner with wine. Then they were on the Vespa again. In Michael's ear, James called over the wind, "where are we going now, mm?"

Michael turned his head just enough to keep his eyes on the road, replying just as loudly. "I was going to rent a room …" James would be able to tell the hint of humor in Michael's voice. "... then I remembered I'm not the one with the nosy, laughing neighbors."

"Oy," James shouted, chortling. "Now you're disparaging my very best friend." There was a pause and he asked, smiling, "Does this mean we're not renting a room? Or we are?"

They took a few quick turns and then Michael said, "I'm taking you home." To his house where Michael would like to think that his neighbors did not give a shite about him. "Hold on!" And he revved that Vespa, laughing as they covered the last few kilometers to Michael's house.

There, it was quiet, the Vespa in the garage and Michael showing James inside. He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his slim hips and he shrugged, grinning brightly. "The plans I made were not as well thought out as I believed it was." He pointed to the bar. "Drink?"

Grinning, James nodded. "But there is a benefit to what plan you had," he noted. "We are now away from all prying eyes and you can do whatever you would like to me and no one will be any the wiser."

"I was hoping more along the lines of you doing what you want with me," Michael countered, taking very slow, very measured steps toward James. "You did promise me that you'll stay, yes?" He was reaching for the buttons holding James's shirt closed.

"I promise, yes," James told him, chin to his chest, grinning as he watched Michael undo those buttons. He looked up through his lashes. "Is it polite to molest someone in their own home?" He already had his hands bracketing Michael's hips.

That made Michael chuckle. "I don't think it's polite if, say, said someone is averse to it." He cocked his head to the side, the smile turning crooked, too. "If it were me, and I have you here," like now, "I wouldn't be bothered in the slightest, darling …"

"Ah, very good." Permission granted, they moved to the bedroom, clothes being shed as they went. They fell onto the bed already naked. James slid his hand down Michael's side as they kissed almost teasingly, tongues darting out only to withdraw, smiling lip-to-lip.

"Tease," Michael said with a grin, his hand on James's hip with his grip alternating grabbing on and loosening, pulling and pushing. This was part of what he loved most about James and their time together. Always drawn out whether they had the time or not.

They kissed again much like the same way, slow and lingering with Michael rolling to his back and taking James with him until he was straddled, his hands now both on the small of James's back.

Weight braced on his hands, James smiled down at him. "That's how it's to be then?" Another kiss. "All right." It was clear he didn't mind, familiarly reaching into the nightstand drawer for necessities.

It only took a moment, despite the length of time they'd been apart, for James to be sliding down onto Michael's cock, groaning breathy as he did.

"God … James …" Michael groaned, his hold on James's hips tightening as he felt the warm grip of James's body around his erection. "It's like you hardly missed me at all …" His eyes were in narrow slits but he was grinning, "Have you been fingering yourself why I've been away …?"

"Of course I have," James answered in a purr, fully seated, rocking with his hands braced on Michael's chest. "I would be out of practice if I haven't, wouldn't I?" Then he leaned down to kiss him.

Michael had a perfectly good reply to that but the kiss was damn amazing and hot and wet and everything that was right between them that he had forgotten what he wanted to say. He rocked his hips upward as they kissed, back and forth, feeling his hardness slip in and out of James's tight body. "Next time," he gasped, "call me when you do that …"

"You want me to make a dirty phone call," James accused, grinning crookedly. "All right." He leaned back, then, lifting and lowering himself almost lazily, his cock dragging over Michael's belly.

"You're a dirty man," Michael was grinning though he spoke breathlessly. "It wouldn't be hard for you to make a dirty phone call." Suddenly Michael arched his back, thrusting up, trembling with his eyes closed, need taking over.

They both fell silent then, moving together, gradually faster, harder, breathing growing shallow and panted. Eventually, Michael drew a hand around James's cock and stroked and when they came, it was with moans, not words.

When James lay next to Michael, cheek on his shoulder, he was smiling. "I must say, you do know how to plan a date."

Michael's arm was around James and his fingers idly caressed James's skin, blowing smoke to the ceiling then smiling. "Aye, it was good but we had too little karaoke." He crushed the cigarette on the ashtray on the nightstand then he turned to place a kiss on James's forehead. "I was so looking forward to your singing and quite intrigued to find out what other cheesy songs you know," he chuckled.

On cue, James started to sing, "Wake me up! Before you go-go, don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!" Complete with finger-snapping. Before, that was, he dissolved into laughter.

Michael groaned first, laughed later. As fun as James was there was no escaping the tawdry songs he sang. It was then a good thing that Michael loved James and he knew if he gave James enough time, James would have a song to sing about how much he loved _him_.


End file.
